


All Your Own

by NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, But I am warning you, Death, F/M, I already regret it, I have no idea why I did this, I really mean it, Love, dying, end of life, major angst, this is painful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 17:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6530221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable/pseuds/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She doesn't need the heart to feel his life ebbing slowly, drifting away with time and years far more than any man ought to have. Two lives weren't meant to share one heart, and they've had more years together than they ever should have gotten. Captain Swan scene set (very far) in the future. Major angst warning, I mean it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Your Own

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. I thought of this out of the blue and, though old-and-happy!Captain Swan is my one true weakness, it still happened, and I had to write it or live with it in my head for the rest of time.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.

It’s nearly time.  

She feels it somewhere deep in her soul, deeper than just in the heart they share, the heart that’s been slowing over time, beating irregularly with the increased effort of keeping two alive.  She doesn’t need the heart to feel his life ebbing slowly, drifting away with time and years far more than any man ought to have.

She’s noticed it affecting him gradually over the last few years - the extra creak in his step, slight hunch in his stance, exhaustion more evident in his eyes, his smile drawn and tired at the end of each day.  He doesn’t complain, doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to, for her to know his half of their heart.  Two lives weren’t meant to share one heart, and they’ve had more years together than they ever should have gotten.

* * *

_“I only have one thing to ask of you, should this work,” he said gently, his fingers warm against hers as they stood together._

_“What is it?”_

_“You have to promise me you’ll do it first.”_

_“I don’t make deals,” she said with a laugh, a laugh that died on her lips as she saw his expression.  She’d never seen him so serious before, so focused, so determined.  “Killian, just tell me what it is, okay?”_

* * *

They’ve been good years, for the most part, years spent together, loving and being loved in return.  Give and take, ebb and flow, life a dance of moves back and forth, in the arms of true intimacy that anticipates any missteps, lovingly compensating until the choreography becomes theirs.  They have family now, both their own and those they’ve adopted over the years, friends who are so much more than outsiders.  True family, genetic and otherwise, full of laughter and love, joining the circle, harmonising their lives into one singular flow.  Slowly, though, they begin to drop away, leaving to create families of their own, to write their own stories, their own dance, or to drift to a realm no longer feared beyond this life, until slowly, there are fewer and fewer of them left.  Even her parents are gone, passing just last year at the same moment, hands clasped together as their shared heart finally, finally, stopped measuring their life and love in its beats.

Henry’s grown, living across the country with a family of his own.  His books draw readers of all ages and types, everyone craving the fantasy world only the few of them know is real.  He’s on his way, and she longs to wait for him, for the rest of the family who’s coming from their lives elsewhere in the world, the rest of those who knows him as he truly is - who he was and who he became - the ones who appreciate the man behind the legend only remembered in fairy tales.

Time does not wait, though, and the end draws near, her breaths are deeper as she tries to pull in more for him, too.  She tries to forget the promise she’d made to him, all those years ago.  She hopes he will also when the time comes, but she knows he won’t.  His memory is too sharp, the centuries he’s lived can’t erase what should have rightly slipped to oblivion ages ago.  He’ll remember, and she thinks that scares her more than what’s to come.

* * *

_“No, absolutely not.”  She couldn’t believe he’d ask such a thing, not after everything that happened._

_“Promise me, love,” he begged.  “You have to promise me.”_

_“I can’t.”  She didn’t argue, didn’t plead, just a simple refusal.  No way._

_“You can, Emma,” he said, his fingers pressed against her chest, to the heartbeat he no doubt felt inside his own.  “You will.  You must.”_

* * *

He holds her hand tightly, as tightly as he can in his weakened state, his breaths coming in short, uneven pants, and still he smiles.  She returns her own, but he can see right through her grin to the tears below, the tears she was hoping to hide from him, the tears he finally brings forth in his gentle whisper, roughed over time and frailty.

“It’s okay, love,” he says gently, clasping her fingers close.  “It’s okay.”

It’s not, it wasn’t then and it’s not now, but she nods anyway, the lie in her movements rather than her words.

“I don’t think I can do this, Killian,” she whispers, holding tight to the one who brought her home, made her his home, built their home, and brought her so much joy.

He only laughs.  “I’ve yet to see you fail.”

* * *

_“You can’t stop me, you know,” she said, wanting to run from the conversation, from him, from what he was asking her to do._

_“I know, love.  Nothing can stop you, we both know that.”  He looked into her eyes, his blue peering intently until he found what he was searching for.  “This is my only request, Emma.  Please.  Promise me.”_

_So she promised, unable to deny him anything, not the man she loved with all the heart they were about to share, who brought her back to life just as truly as she resurrected him from the Underworld._

_She only realised afterward that she should have crossed her fingers behind her back._

* * *

“How will I know when?” she asks, desperate for an excuse, any excuse, to get out of her promise.

“You’ll know,” he assures her, his voice not much more than a whisper.  “I believe in you, love.”

She rubs his hand, the sound of her tears splashing on his chest the only noise in the room.

“Why?” she whispers.  “Why is it so important I do this?  Why now?”   _We’ve had such a good life together,_ she begs silently, _please don’t make me do this._

“They need you, Emma,” he manages, the effort in his words finally starting to show.  “Save their stories for me, love.  Tell them to me later.”

She nods slowly, this time gathering strength to do the impossible.

He releases his fingers from hers, using his remaining energy to reach for her face, her hair, the way he’d done so often over their years together, his gentle touch against her skin more familiar now than her own.  His eyes are shining brightly, his own tears glistening despite the smile he still wears.

* * *

_“You have to take it back,” he said, unable to meet her eyes, knowing the explosion it would set off in her._

_“What?!”  He was right, anger lighting in her skin at his words._

_“You have to take it back.  All of it.”_

* * *

 His hand falls back to the mattress, and she grasps it with everything she has, all the strength that he doesn’t have anymore.

“Killian, please!” she cries softly, leaning as close as she can as his eyes flutter closed, his breathing nothing but wisps of air against her cheek.  “Don’t leave me.”

“I love you, Emma Swan,” he breathes, moisture escaping his eyes to track salted lines into his silvery hair, just past his ears, ears she’d jokingly remarked more than once that were more suited for an elf than Captain Hook.

“I love you, Killian Jones.”

His grip weakens further in hers, and she knows there’s nothing left.

“Now,” he mouths, eyes closed, his face relaxing in a way she never wanted to see again, not for far longer than the decades they’ve had.  

She’s sobbing as she sits up, tears blurring her vision, but she doesn’t need to see to feel his chest, the heartbeat faltering inside it.  With a push of energy, her hand slips into him, reaching the half of her heart he’d held for her all these years, and pulling it toward her.  It glows red in her hand, red with no sign of the blackness that once darkened its edges.

She glances at him, his chest still rising and falling, but each time so shallow, so very shallow.

* * *

_“Promise me you’ll live,” he murmured,_ _his voice barely above a whisper.  “Don’t follow me, don’t let my death take you with me.  Promise me you’ll let me go, take the heart back, and make it all your own, when it’s time.”_

_She took a deep breath, a whisper of her own the most she can manage.  “I promise.”_

_He leaned closer, his forehead nudging hers, their breath mingling in the space between them._

_“No matter how long, I’ll wait for you, love.”_

* * *

 She slips the half into herself, joining it with its mate, holding his hand, her head on his chest, as his breathing finally shudders, and stops.

She whispers through her tears, “I love you, Killian.  With all my heart.”


End file.
